


Dangerous Game

by orphan_account



Series: Nargothrond [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Finrod is terribly pretty, Jewelry, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, elves behaving badly, just thought I should throw that in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finrod fears letting down his guard, but Celegorm wants to play - and is ready to convince Finrod he's interested as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Game

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr request from hereff. There's a companion piece - 'Fierce'.

Finrod was beautiful, and aware of it, in his ceremonial clothes. The white robes, his hair braided with threads of silver and bronze, the Nauglamir gleaming with a thousand varied hues against the pale curve of his throat.  
  
“Pretty,” Celegorm purred, and his teeth scraped against Finrod’s neck, just above the metal and stone of the necklace.  
  
Celegorm had very obviously noticed. And now, after the festival had begun to run slow - many of those attending retiring to their own rooms, a fair number following one after the other in a pretense that barely held up - and Finrod had excused himself to his own room, he didn’t have a ready excuse to get away.  
  
“Don’t do that,” he said sharply, pulling away, and turned to face his cousin. Celegorm just stood there grinning, as if enjoying a private joke; Finrod had learned to ignore that, or at least attempt to. “What is it that you want, to follow me to my room without word?”  
  
He was a not a little worried at the fact that Celegorm had followed him so silently that he had not noticed him until now. He had known his cousin was a hunter, one of the best in Middle-Earth; but he did not like the idea of being prey.  
  
Celegorm laughed, light and rough at once, and reached out to touch one of Finrod’s earrings, tugging on it gently.  
  
“So cold and fair and lovely, cousin. Do not pretend you did not invite me here.”  
  
Finrod blinked, taken aback, but composed himself quickly.  
  
“I did not invite you here,” he said carefully, watching as Celegorm turned and wandered further into the room. It was strange, watching him - so strong and tall and loud you expected clumsiness, but Celegorm was all grace, brushing his fingers over delicate furnishings with a touch as precise as Curufin’s. There was only a promise there - of hidden power, wildness lurking just below the surface.  
  
It made Finrod afraid, much as he hated to admit it. Curufin he could trust to be sly and subtle and give allegiance, if only for an hour… but Celegorm was honest, and Celegorm was loyal, and that was what made him truly terrifying.  
  
“You have been begging for me to come to you for the past many weeks,” Celegorm said without looking at him, turning a book over in his hands before setting it back down. “With your eyes.”  
  
Finrod let out a breath of annoyance. “Celegorm -“  
  
“Not just with that,” Celegorm said with a smile, looking at him, and Finrod’s other words died in his throat. His ceremonial robes suddenly seemed very close, and far too warm. “Although that would be enough, with what I can read from them. The way you hood them, look away, don’t look away, your pupils grow larger when I say something that makes you think about things you don’t want to think about…” He laughed again.  
  
That was one of the most maddening things about Celegorm, Finrod thought, although most of his mind was still buzzing with shock. He laughed at everything. He laughed in battle, in conversation, in… well, he didn’t want to think about that last one - and he caught himself angrily on that thought, at how closely his mind was mirroring Celegorm’s words, and Celegorm chuckled.  
  
“You begged me to come to you with your body,” he said, coming towards Finrod now, with that damned smile and predatory grace; and Finrod stood straight and still, meeting Celegorm’s gaze coldly. “With the way you would tilt your head, lick your lips… crossing your legs because the thought of opening them to me frightened you. But still turning towards me. Wanting me.”  
  
His laughter was gold and silver like the Trees, ringing through the room; Finrod flushed in anger, hands curling into fists.  
  
“How dare you speak to me this way?” he said, but Celegorm caught up one of his hands, making the bracelets clink together, and opened it in his own hands, kissing the palm that he exposed.  
  
A strange gesture, too intimate. The reverse of a kiss of respect upon the hand, or a kiss of fealty.  
  
“You are not my king, cousin,” Celegorm said, and raised dark eyes to him, “and as you are my host, I consider it my duty to attend to your… wants.” He smiled, all white teeth, and leant forward a little. A moment passed as his eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled; then his smile grew wider, more hungry, and his eyes burned.  
  
“I can smell you,” he said, voice dripping with promise that Finrod did not want to explore; strange and dark and sweet, like the taste of black honey. “I can barely see you through all your jewels and finery, but your scent is not masked by them. You smell of want, cousin; your body is aching to find release.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve avoided it for so long. I don’t understand you.”  
  
The heaviness of the cloth of his robe was keeping, for the moment, Finrod’s discomfort hidden; but at Celegorm’s words he found himself unable to protest against them. All he could do was pull his hand from his grasp and look away.  
  
“Leave me,” he said in a whisper. He was burning, the jewelry feeling cool against his skin, but he could not act upon it. Celegorm was too dangerous, too unpredictable; and even if Finrod did not fear for anyone else, the thought of Celegorm touching him…  
  
He felt a shiver run through him. He knew that Celegorm could take the submissive role if it pleased him, but the predatory gaze he had been pinned with did not promise submission. It promised to rip his defenses apart, scatter jewels on the floor, and dominate him. It promised teeth and rough motion and - Celegorm had to leave. Now.

But he was still standing there, looking at Finrod with his head tilted to the side now, eyes wide like a curious dog. So strangely innocent in his unrestrained desires, so unlike Curufin with his schemes and shadows.  
  
Both of them different, but thinking of either of them only fanned the flame within him. He closed his eyes, feeling the flush on his cheeks painfully warm, and repeated his injunction. “Go. I command you.”  
  
“No,” Celegorm said, after a moment’s thought. And then he laughed again, damn him, the sound sending a shiver through Finrod’s body, and fell to his knees. “Would you prefer me like this?” he asked, tone gently mocking.  
  
Finrod had no answer, and continued to have none as Celegorm moved closer and kissed his feet, a low chuckle shaking his bent head, and moved his hands up to the hem of Finrod’s white robe. It was heavier than most things he wore, but still, he discovered, fine enough to be bunched up as high as his waist. His hands twined in Celegorm’s hair, tightening convulsively, and Celegorm gave a groan of pleasure, hot breath ghosting over Finrod’s cock.  
  
“Cousin…”  
  
He had imagined what he wished to do to Curufin so many times, nights when he was too weary to hold himself back from it, but with Celegorm he was more at a loss, and Celegorm seized the opportunity and set the pace.

Finrod bit back a cry as Celegorm’s mouth engulfed his erection, hot and damp and hungry; his earrings clicking against the Nauglamir, his bracelets catching in Celegorm’s hair as he thrust convulsively, unable to hold himself back. He felt a vibration - was Celegorm laughing again, even now? - and it roused a bright flame of anger within him, and keeping a tight hold of Celegorm’s hair he thrust harder, with more precision. There was a tremor, Celegorm choking slightly, but then he swallowed and Finrod lost any advantage he might have had, hands going to support himself against the wall.  
  
“ _Elbereth_ ,” he heard himself moaning, “yes,” and was lost in a haze of slick heat and pressure and suction he had barely dreamed of feeling, and Celegorm played absently with the beads on Finrod’s belt as his head moved rhythmically between his legs.  
  
~  
  
 _Neither of us have won_ , Finrod caught himself thinking with unusual clarity, as Celegorm swallowed and pulled back, lips flushed red and swollen from what he had done. _Not quite. Not yet. But he has the advantage._  
  
The white material fell softly back into place over Finrod’s cock, and he winced at the sensation. Celegorm grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
“What now, cousin?” Celegorm asked; eyes still laughing, still refusing to call him king. Finrod did not dare to move away from the wall yet, sacrifice the support while his legs were still trembling, but he looked down at Celegorm and saw the shape of him clear in the breeches he always wore, no matter what the situation.  
  
He could return the dubious ‘favor’ for Celegorm, he knew, and thought for a moment of the heat of Celegorm’s cock in his mouth, his cousin’s deceptively delicate touch running over the Nauglamir, Celegorm’s moans…  
  
But he dismissed the thought from his mind; he would not be able to master him that way, he did not know how to beat Celegorm in this game yet. Instead, he drew himself up, straightening his robe and his jewelry with careful hands.  
  
“Now,” he said, voice only shaking very slightly, “I must ask you to leave. For the third time, and if you refuse now I will have to enforce my command. I am tired, and wish to rest.”  
  
A flicker of pleasure went through him at how Celegorm stared at him for a moment with wide eyes and an open mouth, before a moment later he changed to a narrow-eyed expression.  
  
“Not _fair,_ ” he said, a mixture of frustration and admiration and laughter in his voice, and got to his feet, and went to the door. “Not fair at all, cousin.”  
  
Finrod had prided himself on that, and was able to get to sleep with relative ease; but the next day, hearing Celegorm’s laughter and seeing the way that Orodreth flushed and dropped his eyes when Finrod looked at him, he realized that Celegorm had taken the last word after all.


End file.
